Now I need a cure for chiggers. I got one of the buggers on my ankle (wasn't poison ivy after all--that's what I had on my arm). I'm a walking advertisement [not] for "move to Texas." Sunburn, prickly heat, bugs and poisonus plants. Ah, summer!

Maybe Gluon would like to come visit with my wunderdawg in that buggy back yard. She needs to burn some energy and it sounds like Gluon can convert it if anyone can. Visualize a twin-bed sized dacron comforter. With much of the stuffing now removed, a bite at a time, by a bored dog. Got that? It looks like Santa was mugged back here, whiskers everywhere. Now imagine the canine gets the idea she's Gluon, and can fly. Every flying dog needs a cape, right? The comforter has been downsized enough over the past weeks that when she charges through the yard it streams behind her as she races across the lawn, dodging trees, the birdbath, and strafing a couple of shrubs. It is a sight to behold! Gluon would love it here. The invitation is always open (daylight hours only, please).

Not credible? Me? Why, my treatment of 'em is a lot more humane that of ol' Sagebrush! He waits until the skeeters land on him and then he bashes 'em with a 2 x 4. Blood and guts everywhere! (He usta bash 'em when he saw 'em, but Bear Mountain Bob took umbrage at bein' whacked in the head and fed the 2 x 4 to Sagebrush. Sideways. From the bottom up, so to speak. That's why Sagebrush walks like he does.)

Researchers at the University of Massachusetts Amherst have discovered a tiny biological structure that is highly electrically conductive. This breakthrough helps describe how microorganisms can clean up groundwater and produce electricity from renewable resources. It may also have applications in the emerging field of nanotechnology, which develops advanced materials and devices in extremely small dimensions.

Full story at http://www.physorg.com/news4722.html Git them buggers to work, I sez. They can start by disassemblin all the stuff in landfills and the spent fuel rods from the 80's and such. If we hire Arab microbes, they will already know how to disassemble, according to Presidunkin "Doughnut-Brain" Bush.

Skeeter beater? Out here in Idyho we either smash 'em with a hammer er a rock or jist whip out the ol' six-shooter and blow the little buggers ta kingdom come.

Why, jist t'other evenin' I was sittin' outside the saloon when ol' Deadface started braggin' what good vision he had. One thing led ta another and afore ya know it we was engaged in a shootin' contest. Ol' Deadface says ta me, "Ya see that butterfly out there on the hitchin' rack off in fronta the General Store?" "The one about two hunndert yards out?" I asks, "the one with the orange wings with spots on 'em?"

"Yup," he says, and by cracky if he don't up and shoot the critter, drillin' it right atween the eyes!

You mean, since I did, I really didn't? So, when you didn't, you really did? But, doesn't the fact that I really did and you really didn't... okay, time to back away from the keyboard and have a few cold ones. Let's forget this ever happened.

solve the mysteries of quarks with the completion of the three most powerful supercomputers ever applied to this problem

as usual - this must be a government funded operation - because how they expect to solve the mysteries of quarks using computers!!! What they need, as any good MOABite could tell them is a flock of ducks, a bunch of airedales, some candlelight, and a romantic setting.

Har! Who the fuck is that pretending to be Freds? Har! Freds don't say "Har!" after every sentence! Har! Ralphs say "Har!" after every sentence! Har! Ralphs are the most annoying species in the known Universe! Har! Freds are pipsqueak wannabes! Har! Get a life, "freds"! Har! Har! Har!

LIVERPOOL SCIENTISTS HELP TO SOLVE THE MYSTERIES OF QUARKS

June 21 Particle physicists are embarking on a new attempt to solve the mysteries of quarks with the completion of the three most powerful supercomputers ever applied to this problem, including one in Edinburgh which scientists at the University of Liverpool helped to design and build. Full story at http://www.physorg.com/news4643.html

There once was a troop Of Irish baboons Came bumbling down to Fyfe-e-o And our captain (that's me!) fell in love With a very bonny lass And her name it was called Pretty Polly-O.

(Chorus) O Polly, pretty Polly, come away with me, O Polly, pretty Polly, come away with me, Before we get married some pleasure to see, YEE-HA!

Oh, how can I get to your chamber, love, How can I get to your bed When your daddy goes to bed at night With a keen eye on his head?

(Chorus) Eileen Orr, me heart is turning gray Ever since the day you wandered far away. Eileen Orr, There's more fish in the sea, But there's none just like the Pride of Petrovar, YEE-HA!

In the middle of the track, up spoke the noble rider, "I fear we must fall back that grey is runnin' like a tiger." Up spoke the noble horse, "Ride on, ride on my master! We're only halfway 'round the course and now we'll see who's faster."

(Chorus) An' ye had been whaur I hae been Ye wadna been sae cantie-o An' ye had seen what I hae seen On the braes o' Killiecrankie-o, YEE-HA!

From Derry's wild woodlands from Maine's sounding tide From Leitrim and Longford came chiefs to our side From Breffni's green hills, with his sabre in hand Stood bold Myles the slasher, the pride of our land!

The moon it shown down on old Dublin Town When the rowdy night was o'er. Thousands lay on the cold, cold ground Their bodies could hold no more, The moon it shown down on O'Connell Street Where a drunken young tosspot lay With his wineskin slashed and his arms outstretched And his Black Bush flowin' away.

A passing comrade heard the moans, The sufferer soon was found. Softly, gently he raised his head Up from the cold, cold ground. "Softly, gently, Comrade!" he cried, "No longer on Earth can I stay I shall nevermore drink as I drank last night, For it's married I'm gettin' today."

His comrades gathered around him To give him a fare-the-well; He was as drinkin' and rowdy man As ever to womankind fell, They dug a grave and in it they laid The youth of a fellow once gay*; He will nevermore drink as he drank last night, For it's married he's gettin' today.

A little mosquito once sat on my arm, her evil intent was to cause me some harm. To stick in her proboscis and suck up my blood, leaving behind a sore itch I must rub. I think its quite mean doing something like that....

So I raised my right hand and I swatted her flat.

Comes from a book of "Poetry for the Family" that you can buy for $10.

To get your copy send a cheque for $10.00 US made payable to Pensoft Publishing, to the following address.

I was reminded of something over on Bobert's moving day blues thread. I wondered if there were any elegies to mosquitoes.

The Mosquito William Cullen Bryant

Fair insect! that with threadlike legs spread out And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, In pitiless ears, full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins should bleed, Would we but yield them to thy bitter need?

Unwillingly I own, and, what is worse, Full angrily men hearken to thy plaint; Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, For saying thou art gaunt and starved and faint. Even the old beggar, while he asks for food, Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could.

I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, Has not the honor of so proud a birth- Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, The offspring of the gods, though born on earth; For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she, The ocean nymph that nursed thy infancy.

Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung, And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong, Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, Rose in the sky, and bore thee soft along; The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay.

It does run on for many more stanzas, and if you really want to read the rest, it is here.

gnu, Amos was a little slow with that story. I posted it on I Read it in the Newspaper hours, nay, nearly an entire day before he did here at the MOAB.

What's it about? Better to ask what it ISN'T about, but once you have an answer, that will be included in our subject matter. Douglas Adams said it best--the MOAB is about Life, the Universe, and Everything.

I only posted to this thread once, near the beginning, and have never read much of it, but, something made me click on it today. It must have been the post by Amos about the lions saving the girl... brought tears to my eyes. So... what isn't this thread about?

Bunnahabhain, now don't you start! It's enough to have had a guest hijack the thread and demand we toe he/she/its line instead of generating our usual voluable banter. I don't need a regular mis-interpreting me! Have you been over to the Mudcat Tavern? Then you'll know that LtS has a command of BS second to none. So the little Flamenco Ted moment was cute, but left me wanting more, you know what I mean?

Ah, for the good old days with the duck tape in the loo. LtS was very patient and a good sport about that. . . I can smell MMario's roasted auroch whafting out from the kitchen, can taste the cold beer, and darnit, I leaned my sleeve in the puddle of jello on the bar and I think I'm stuck to the barstool.

Mostly it is the fact that in 1560 I'm Owain Cramp- a failed wannabee minstrel with test anxiety - who has flunked his apprenticship exams for 40 years straight. So I'm nothing but the pre-minstrel Cramp. But I *can* carry a tune in a bucket and I prove it!

and in 1585 I'm Mario Leo a Pola de Finale Emilia, an Englishman born, by descent from the Italies,wandering taylor, proffessional uncle, and a servant to the rich (because it doesn't pay to be a servant to the poor) - currenlty indentured to a pair of Spainards - trying to raise enough money to bribe the Armada to stay home.

In other news of import, an inter-species ad hoc team-building worthy of special note:

"ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia ? A 12-year-old girl who was abducted and beaten by men trying to force her into a marriage was found being guarded by three lions that apparently had chased off her captors, a policeman said yesterday.

The girl, missing for a week, had been taken by seven men who wanted to force her to marry one of them, said Sgt. Wondimu Wedajo, speaking by telephone from the provincial capital of Bita Genet, about 350 miles southwest of Addis Ababa.

She was beaten repeatedly before she was found June 9 by police and relatives on the outskirts of Bita Genet, Wondimu said. She had been guarded by the lions for about half a day, he said.

"They stood guard until we found her and then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest," Wondimu said.

"If the lions had not come to her rescue, then it could have been much worse. Often these young girls are raped and severely beaten to force them to accept the marriage," he said.

Tilahun Kassa, a local government official who corroborated Wondimu's version of the events, said one of the men had wanted to marry the girl against her wishes.

"Everyone thinks this is some kind of miracle, because normally the lions would attack people," Wondimu said.

Stuart Williams, a wildlife expert with the rural-development ministry, said the girl may have survived because she was crying from the trauma of her attack.

"A young girl whimpering could be mistaken for the mewing sound from a lion cub, which in turn could explain why they didn't eat her," Williams said."

Now now SRS, don't be mean. Little posts like that add to the whole general mish-mash sort of thing ( sorry, last ever episode of HHGG on last night, does it show? ), and gives everyone else a time to think.

On the other hand, thinking round here is probably not a good idea....

Quick, kipple and they'll not notice!

White Horses

Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso weed; By chartless reef and channel, Or crafty coastwise bars, But most the ocean-meadows All purple to the stars!

Who holds the rein upon you? The latest gale let free. What meat is in your mangers? The glut of all the sea. 'Twixt tide and tide's returning Great store of newly dead, -- The bones of those that faced us, And the hearts of those that fled. Afar, off-shore and single, Some stallion, rearing swift, Neighs hungry for new fodder, And calls us to the drift: Then down the cloven ridges -- A million hooves unshod -- Break forth the mad White Horses To seek their meat from God!

Girth-deep in hissing water Our furious vanguard strains -- Through mist of mighty tramplings Roll up the fore-blown manes -- A hundred leagues to leeward, Ere yet the deep is stirred, The groaning rollers carry The coming of the herd!

Whose hand may grip your nostrils -- Your forelock who may hold? E'en they that use the broads with us -- The riders bred and bold, That spy upon our matings, That rope us where we run -- They know the strong White Horses From father unto son.

We breathe about their cradles, We race their babes ashore, We snuff against their thresholds, We nuzzle at their door; By day with stamping squadrons, By night in whinnying droves, Creep up the wise White Horses, To call them from their loves.

And come they for your calling? No wit of man may save. They hear the loosed White Horses Above their fathers' grave; And, kin of those we crippled, And, sons of those we slew, Spur down the wild white riders To school the herds anew.

What service have ye paid them, Oh jealous steeds and strong? Save we that throw their weaklings, Is none dare work them wrong; While thick around the homestead Our snow-backed leaders graze -- A guard behind their plunder, And a veil before their ways.

With march and countermarchings -- With weight of wheeling hosts -- Stray mob or bands embattled -- We ring the chosen coasts: And, careless of our clamour That bids the stranger fly, At peace with our pickets The wild white riders lie.

This weekend I'm to be in 1560 0r so, the rest of the summer weekends I'll be spending in 1585.

So tell us, Leo, what's so different about 1560 and 1585 that bouncing back and forth while in character would be so traumatic? 1960 to 1985 I could understand. But was the rate of social/technological change in the 16th century so rapid that 25 years would make a big difference?